THAT AFTERNOON WINDBLOWN-A
mountain came to my feet on
That
afternoon windblown. People,
old-timers, elders say Mountains
never move but Only
wind blows; But
never ever in my dream I
saw mountain moving And
touching my feet. A
miracle or a dream never conceived. I
vividly remember that Puzzled
and astonished look of mine; It
was writ large on the face And
plump plumes turned purple, Limbs
shivering in search of That
old rhythm and beat Carrying
with a deep and Invincible
forest full of silt-sand. Such
was the fury of that mountain On
that afternoon, and Everybody
had on their lips One
and only one word to chant Peace
! My
Lord, Peace! |